Numb
by my own patronus
Summary: Fill for Blangst prompt #336. Three of Blaine's Sadie Hawkins attackers are found murdered, and he is number one on the suspect list. But things aren't always as they seem. Soon, Blaine finds himself in a dangerous situation. One-shot.


**a/n: this is a fill for Blangst prompt of the day #336 (the prompt is below). This is by no means even close to my best work, but it was 3 am and I saw the prompt and I couldn't sleep, so I wrote it. I haven't even reread it since I finished it. Hopefully it's not too ramble-y.**

**Glee, etc. belongs to Ryan Murphy/FOX**

* * *

_Prompt: Blaine is approached by the police one day in class and is pulled out. Several of the boys who beat him up at Sadie Hawkins or bullied him at his old school have been found brutally murdered. He is the number one suspect and scared and nervous but they eventually let him go. The rumors spread around school. Stalker!Eli had grabbed the boys and killed them for Blaine. He gets Blaine next and is upset when Blaine is horrified. He starts threatening Blaine since he can't appreciate his "love"._

* * *

Blaine was trying his hardest to pay attention in calculus. Really, he was. But it wasn't his fault that the heater was on overdrive and Mrs. Pearson has a voice so numbing that it can put an insomniac to sleep.

He was briefly distracted by a commotion in the hallway, but turned back to his phone and his discreet conversation with Tina and ignored it. At least, he tried to ignore it. But then there was a knocking on the classroom door and there was Miss Pillsbury and Principal Figgins and two police officers standing in the doorway.

Since Puck had graduated, the position of resident badass at McKinley was wide open. Apparently someone in his calc class had done a really good job filling Puck's shoes.

"Blaine Anderson?" one of the police officers said.

Blaine's head shot up and his text to Tina remained unsent. His eyes widened as he looked to the front of the room.

"Y-yes?" he stuttered.

"Can you please join us in the hallway?" the male officer asked, looking entirely unsympathetic.

Blaine stood and walked to the door on shaking legs.

Once he reached the hall, he followed the adults to Miss Pillsbury's office.

"Take a seat, Blaine," the petite redhead offered. She looked more nervous than usual. That couldn't be a good sign.

"What's going on?" Blaine finally asked. "Did something happen?"

"Where were you yesterday between the hours of 5 and 7 pm?" the officer asked.

"I was home. Doing homework."

"Was anyone else there who can confirm your whereabouts?" he questioned.

Blaine was growing steadily more nervous. "N-no. My mom didn't get home from work until close to 8 last night."

The other officer looked honestly regretful as she uttered the next statement. "Blaine Anderson, you are under arrest for the assault and murder of Jeremy Benson, Simon Greene, and Daniel Hightower."

Blaine's jaw dropped at both the names and the accusation. It had been such a long time since he'd had to worry about Jeremy, Simon, and Dan. The last time he'd seen them, they were being sentenced to 40 hours of community service each for assaulting him at his old school's Sadie Hawkins dance.

"Murder?" he asked weakly, feeling the cold metal handcuffs snap around his wrists.

The female officer looked sadly at him and said, "It's best you don't say anything just yet."

Although class was still in session, Blaine knew that every pair of eyes in the school was glued to him as he was led down the main hallway and unceremoniously pushed into the backseat of the police car.

* * *

Two hours later, Virginia Anderson barged into the Westerville police station.

"Bring me to my son," she ordered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't do that right now," an apologetic young officer said.

"Well at least tell me that you had the decency to wait for a lawyer before talking to him?"

"Of course!" the young cop now looked slightly scandalized.

"Good. Now would you mind informing me why you thought it would be a good idea to arrest my 17-year-old son in the middle of school?"

"Oh. Well, last night three recent Westerville high school graduates were murdered in the apartment they share over on Birch Street. Witnesses place a car matching the description of your son's at the scene around the time of the attack. These three young men share a history with your son."

"The boys who beat him up three years ago?"

"Yes. However, more recently, we were told that Blaine contacted them and threatened them."

"Threatened them?" Virginia asked, incensed.

"Yes, a source close to the boys - men - said they'd received several phone calls in the past months from Blaine. They started out innocent enough, but soon escalated to rather graphic threats."

"This is preposterous!"

* * *

The New Directions were thinking the same thing as they listened to Rod Remington on the evening news, all crowded into the Hummel-Hudson living room to watch.

"Yesterday, a brutal attack shook the core of neighboring town, Westerville. Alana has the story and more. Over to you," Rod said.

The picture changed to a young woman standing in front of an apartment complex. Although the police had vacated the scene hours ago, the yellow crime tape remained.

"Thanks, Rod," the young woman said. "Last night, in the quiet town of Westerville, residents of the Birch Street Apartment Village were all shocked out of their nighttime routines by the screams of their neighbors. The scene that greeted the authorities was not a pleasant one. The three residents of apartment 16 B, Jeremy Benson,19, Simon Greene, 18, and Daniel Hightower, 20, were brutally beaten and murdered by an unknown assailant. Although no neighbors managed to catch a glimpse of the perpetrators, many were able to identify an unfamiliar car that pulled away not long after the screams ended.

"Westerville PD currently has a suspect in custody, but are not releasing any more information at this time. Back to you, Rod."

Finn turned off the TV. No one in the room spoke.

"They think Blaine killed those guys?" Sam finally asked quietly.

"That's crazy," Tina said. "Blaine wouldn't hurt a fly."

"How did they even connect him to those guys?" Sugar asked.

Finn shook his head. "I don't know. I called Kurt after school, and he was going to try talking to Blaine's mom, but I haven't heard anything else. For now, I think we should all just try to keep this as quiet as possible."

"How can we keep it quiet? The whole school saw him being escorted in handcuff. It doesn't take a genius to make the connection seeing as this is the only noteworthy thing to have happened here in the past few years," Sam said angrily.

"Just don't try to encourage rumors. We don't want to make this any worse for Blaine than it already is."

* * *

Things were looking pretty bad for Blaine. His lawyer, a friend of his mother's, had arrived at the police station about an hour before Virginia, but Blaine was still mostly unaware of what was going on. After hours of sitting in an empty interrogation room, hands still cuffed together, the door opened, and his lawyer and the two officers entered.

"How did you know Jeremy Benson, Simon Greene, and Daniel Hightower?" the man asked.

"They went to Westerville high school when I did. They were a grade ahead of me, and they liked to make my life hell," Blaine answered.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked.

"I'm gay, and they had a big problem with that. They would push me around at school, but never enough that the administration would have to do anything about it. Just little things – they'd call me names, push me in the halls, that sort of thing."

"It says here that they were charged for assaulting you and another boy, Christian Duncan?"

"Yeah. Christian's also gay, and we were friends. We went to a school dance together and Jeremy, Simon, Dan, and a bunch of the other guys weren't too pleased. So they cornered us after the dance and beat us up until a chaperone came over and broke it up."

The woman nodded her head and jotted down a few notes.

"Where were you last night between 5 and 7?" the male officer asked again.

"I already told you," Blaine said. "I was home."

"And there is no one who can corroborate that?"

"No. My mom works long hours, so I'm usually alone at night. I was texting a couple of my friends while I was doing homework," he added, hoping that it would help him.

"We'll get a copy of your phone records, but that doesn't prove anything."

Blaine's face fell.

"When was the last time you saw the victims?"

Blaine flinched. Last time he saw the three boys, _he _was the victim. "At their sentencing hearing," Blaine answered.

"And have you contacted them since then?"

"No. Those guys beat me senseless. Why would I want to talk to them? I just wanted to get away from it all."

The questioning continued in a similar vein for a while longer until the officers left the room to talk with their supervisor.

Blaine turned to his lawyer. Annabelle Klein had been his mother's friend first, and Blaine felt entirely comfortable in the woman's presence.

"What's going on?" he pleaded.

* * *

Blaine was released from custody around midnight. There hadn't been enough evidence to hold him, and Annabelle was good at her job. As soon as Blaine gathered his possessions, he ran to the front of the station where his mother was waiting. Not bothering to care if anyone saw, Blaine launched himself into her open arms with a sob.

"Come on, honey. Let's go home," she whispered soothingly.

Virginia made Blaine a small dinner despite the boy's protests claiming that he wasn't hungry. They avoided any serious conversation, and she sent him to bed when he almost fell asleep at the kitchen counter at 2.

Blaine spent most of the night sobbing into his pillow.

* * *

He didn't go to school the next day, nor did his mother go to work. He fielded a few calls and texts from his friends, but mostly chose to stay out of contact. Instead, he cuddled up with his mother on the couch and watched movies all day long.

Annabelle called that evening to say that they wanted to question Blaine again. He was supposed to go in at 4 the next day.

He went to bed early that night and his sleep was plagued by nightmares. Blaine woke on his own at 6:30.

He showered and joined his mother in the kitchen for a quiet breakfast. When Blaine made to grab his car keys and backpack, she took his hand.

"You don't have to go to school, honey."

"I want to. I need to get my mind off of all this. I need something to distract me."

Virginia nodded, kissed him, and let him go. "Call me if anything changes," she said as he walked out the door. "I'll meet you at the station at 4."

Blaine nodded and began the drive to school. For the first time in a long time, he didn't turn on the radio. He barely paid attention to the streets.

He pulled into the parking lot moments before the first bell and ended up having to run straight to class without stopping by his locker. Not that he had done any homework anyway.

As soon as Blaine walked through the doorway and into his English classroom, an eerie quiet fell over the room as every eye turned to him.

Blaine kept his eyes trained downward as he made his way to the back row where he always sat next to Artie. He pretended he didn't hear the hiss of "murderer!" as he walked to his seat. Artie, however, seemed entirely unaffected by the fear that enveloped the rest of his classmates.

"Hey Blaine," he whispered. "I have your worksheet from yesterday."

Blaine tried his hardest to smile. "Thanks."

* * *

The rest of the day was worse.

No one dared to actually approach him in the halls – probably too afraid that he would snap and kill them – but the passive aggressive abuse of his classmates was still everywhere. Someone had broken into Blaine's locker and poured rad paint over everything. Another person scrawled "MURDERER" on the face of it. And hisses followed him everywhere.

The only solace Blaine found throughout the day came in the form of his friends from glee club. None of them seemed to have turned their backs on him, for which he was grateful.

"Are you coming to glee today?" Sam asked Blaine as they walked to their final class of the day.

Blaine shook his head and looked like he wanted to cry. "I have to go back to the police station."

"Why? You didn't kill those guys, and they obviously know since they let you go."

"They only let me go because there was no conclusive evidence. They still think I killed them."

"Why you?" Sam asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"They were the guys who beat me up after Sadie Hawkins at my old school," Blaine said softly.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I didn't know."

"Not many people did. I'm not ashamed of who I am, but sometimes I wanted to forget that I got bashed. I didn't tell many people about it. Only -" Blaine suddenly cut himself off. "Oh my god," he whispered.

"What?"

"I gotta go, Sam! Get my homework for me?" Blaine shouted, not even waiting for a reply as he ran down the hallway.

It was all so obvious. How had he not realized it before?

Yesterday and the day before, every person Blaine knew had texted him, saying that they believed in him. But there was one text that hadn't seemed odd until Blaine had been talking with Sam.

He'd received it around 5 on the day he'd been arrested. It was simple, and didn't seem strange.

_Heard you got arrested. I'm sure they'll get their heads out of their asses and realize it wasn't you. Let me know if you want to talk._

The person who had sent it? Eli C.

But the only people who knew Blaine had been arrested were people from McKinley. Sure, by yesterday, the news had spread a bit further, but Eli shouldn't have known that quickly. He didn't know anyone else at McKinley.

Blaine thought back to a few months ago.

* * *

_Blaine was sitting on the edge of Eli's bed, shaking with nerves. He couldn't believe what he was about to do._

_The other boy walked over to him and confidently attached his mouth to Blaine's as he pulled Blaine's shirt over his head. Eli's hands began to explore Blaine's naked torso when the stopped short over a scar on his side._

_"What's this?" he asked._

_Blaine, overwhelmed by all the emotions fighting for dominance in his mind, had spilled the entire Sadie Hawkins story to Eli. In his emotionally vulnerable state, he had then fallen into bed with the other boy._

When it was all over, however, Blaine knew it was wrong. He told Eli it was a mistake and it couldn't happen again, and he left the house.

But Eli kept calling.

He would wait for Blaine at the Lima Bean.

He would drive by Blaine's house.

It was unnerving, and Blaine had once tried to confront Eli about it, told the boy to back off.

Blaine had thought it had stopped. But maybe Eli had just shifted his focus.

* * *

Blaine shut himself into the front seat of his car and called Eli.

"Hey sexy, I'm so glad to hear from you," Eli answered.

"Eli," Blaine warned.

"Sorry, you know I have no filter, and you're just so damn attractive. But I'm really glad to hear from you. After hearing about you being arrested – that's total bullshit."

"How did you hear, Eli?" Blaine asked softly.

"On the news," the other boy replied.

"They didn't release any information about me on the news. I'm a minor."

"Well," Eli said, voice faltering, "not like the _news _news -"

"What did you do?" Blaine asked in a harsh tone.

"What? What do you mean, Blaine, I didn't do anything!"

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Look, Blaine, I might have talked to those guys for you, but I never killed them! Can we talk about this in person?"

Blaine sighed and, against his better judgement, agreed.

"Come right over to my place," Eli said.

* * *

Blaine felt less and less sure of his decision as he pulled into Eli's driveway. But he wasn't going to leave this up to the police – they had done enough over the years to make Blaine lose all faith in the criminal justice system.

Eli's front door was open before Blaine even reached the top step.

"Where are your parents?" Blaine asked.

"Out of town," Eli said. "Come on in."

Blaine walked into the front hall and looked around nervously. Everything seemed perfectly normal, and yet there was something nagging at the corners of Blaine's mind.

"Look, Eli, let's get straight to it. I don't trust you. I don't like you, and I don't want to be with you. I don't know anything about you, and I made a huge mistake a couple of months ago when I met you online. And then you started following me around, even when I asked you to stop. So, please, tell me that I'm crazy to think that you're involved in this mess."

Eli's face froze. "So that's how this is going to be?" he asked.

Blaine only had a moment to be confused before he felt a sharp pain in his skull and blacked out.

* * *

Virginia was nervously pacing around the police station. It was 4:15 and Blaine still wasn't there. She called his phone and it went straight to voicemail, just like it had the last three times she had called.

The two police officers were also worried, but for slightly different reasons.

Blaine's absence meant that he was guilty. Why would an innocent man avoid the police?

Virginia gave up on Blaine's phone and called Sam.

"Ms. Anderson?" the boy answered.

"Hi Sam, sorry for calling. I was just wondering if Blaine was with you?"

"No, he left school early, actually. He said he had to go to the police station."

Virginia gasped.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asked, worried.

"No, no. Everything's fine, Sam. Thanks," Virginia said faintly before abruptly hanging up.

After another twenty minutes, the officers decided to check the Anderson house. No sign of Blaine or his car. They were starting to become slightly worried now, too, so they tried to track his cell phone. It was turned off, but they were able to find the location of the last number he'd called. It was a few towns over, close to two and a half hours away.

Hopping in their car, the two officers began to drive off.

* * *

Blaine woke up to find himself tied and gagged in a chair. He had no idea where he was. But sitting right in front of him with a manic smile was Eli.

Slowly, the events of the past hour came back to him. Blaine's eyes widened in realization, and he struggled with his bonds. Eli watched and chuckled.

"Oh Blaine," he said. "Why did you have to question every little thing I did for you? Why couldn't you just accept that you and I are meant to be together."

Blaine tried to shout out, but to no avail.

"I did all this for you. I know how scared those boys made you, so I got rid of them. I called them up and scared them, but when they wouldn't leave, I had to take action. I did all of this for you. I love you Blaine. And we're meant to be together. Why can't you just accept that? Why do you keep pushing me away?"

For the first time since waking up, Blaine's eyes shifted off of Eli's face to explore the room he was trapped in. He vaguely recognized it, and a voice in the back of his head supplied the answer: Eli's basement.

Blaine's eyes traveled back to Eli and rested, terrified, on the large knife sitting in the other boy's lap.

"Don't worry about this, Blaine. As long as you cooperate, I have no reason to hurt you. But if you try to run from me again, I'm not going to make any promises." He smiled.

Blaine shivered.

Eli stood up and, seeming to take pity on the struggling boy, removed Blaine's gag.

"You're sick!" were the first words that dropped from Blaine's mouth. "You're psychotic and a murderer!"

"Shut UP!" Eli shouted, slapping Blaine hard across the face.

But Blaine wouldn't quiet. He needed to find a way out of this. "No. I'm not going to let you get away with this. You murdered those guys and now you've kidnapped me! They're going to catch you!"

"Oh really? What makes you think that? I thought you didn't tell anyone about me."

"Maybe I didn't, but the police were expecting me to stop by for more questioning after school. They're probably pouring through my phone records right now to find me. And isn't it strange that _yours _was the last number I called."

Eli slapped him again, harder this time. "That's a lie!"

"What good would lying do me right now, Eli?"

"You're lying, you little -" Eli shouted. He finally broke, grabbing the knife and holding it to Blaine's throat. "If I just twitched my hand ever so slightly, you'd be dead," he whispered.

Blaine gulped nervously. He could feel the cool metal cutting into his throat. He had no doubt that despite Eli's declarations of love, the other boy wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

Eli chuckled. "Not so tough now, are you?"

From upstairs, there was a muffled knocking on the door. Eli paled, and Blaine felt hope surge through his body.

"Eli Charleston?" a voice called through the thick wood. "Blaine Anderson?"

Blaine took his chance. "Help!" he shouted. He barely managed to get the word out before Eli slapped a hand over his mouth. The knife was biting even further into Blaine's throat, but he didn't care.

Eli messed around for a few more moments before stuffing the gag back into Blaine's mouth. Once his hand was freed, he socked Blaine heavily in the stomach.

"Don't even think about pulling something like that again," he growled.

There was a heavy pounding from upstairs before a loud crack echoed through the house. The police had broken through the door. Blaine could hear several heavy pairs of footsteps pound over his head.

Blaine tried to shout out through his gag again, but it came out as nothing more than a weak whimper.

"Shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you," Eli warned, slapping Blaine again.

Blaine didn't care. His head was already pounding, his breath was short from the blow to his stomach, and there was a knife to his throat. He was already in the worst possible situation.

The heavy footsteps above came closer, and Blaine heard a pair begin to descend the stairs. As the figure entered the basement, Eli shouted out, "Stay back if you know what's good for you!"

The officer – the same woman who had been questioning Blaine just two days earlier – froze. Thankfully, Eli's shout had alerted her companions to the situation and they soon followed after.

The woman held up her gun and trained it on Eli's head. "Put down the knife, son," she said in a steady voice.

Blaine was shivering in his bonds, feeling the knife press harder against his throat. He let out a small whimper, his eyes pleading with the woman.

"If you take one step closer, I'll slit his throat just like I did to those other kids," Eli growled.

Despite the horrible situation, Blaine couldn't help but feel a bit of relief that his name was finally being cleared.

"You don't want to do that, Eli," the woman said slowly, taking another step forward.

Eli pressed the knife even further into Blaine's throat. He squealed around the gag as he felt a bead of blood drop from the line.

"Son, we've got you surrounded. You make one move on Mr. Anderson and we'll shoot. Just lower the knife, and we can make this easier."

The other officers had spread around the woman and were also holding up their guns.

Eli seemed to realize the hopelessness of his situation, because he pulled the knife away from Blaine. Blaine sagged in relief as the woman lowered her gun slightly.

Before anyone could do anything else, however, Eli slammed the knife into his own abdomen and fell over, bleeding.

Everyone jumped into action. Most of the officers ran over to Eli to remove the knife and put pressure on the wound. The woman and one other officer quickly united Blaine's bonds and removed the gag. As soon as the restraints were lifted, Blaine sagged in the chair, folding in on himself.

"Come on," the woman said gently. "Let's get you out of here."

She and the other officer supported Blaine up the stairs and to the living room. Blaine collapsed into a chair as they began searching through the house.

A few minutes later, more sirens approached and EMTs came running into the house. By this time, the commotion had caught the attention of neighbors and even a few news crews. It must have been a really slow news day.

One crew ran to the basement to assess Eli, but a few of the paramedics rushed over to Blaine and began inspecting him.

The EMT looking at Blaine pressed a tender spot on his skull. Blaine winced and pulled away, only just remembering that Eli had hit him over the head.

"This looks bad," the man said. "You might have a concussion. We'll need to bring you to the hospital."

"My mom," Blaine suddenly remembered. "Does she know?"

"We just called her, honey. She'll meet you at the hospital," the female officer told Blaine.

Blaine nodded numbly and stood to walk out with the EMT's support. He was well aware of the gaping stares of neighbors and a few flashing cameras, but he couldn't be bothered to care. Moments after he left the house, Eli was wheeled out on a stretcher. Blaine winced as he realized how the situation might appear to onlookers.

The ride to the hospital was all a blur. Blaine had been sitting in an exam room for a few minutes when the gravity of the situation fell on him. Gripped by both stress and the effects of the concussion, Blaine's stomach convulsed and he vomited before he could even reach the trash bin.

When the doctor returned to bandage Blaine, the boy was curled on his side, shivering in his own sick. The man got a janitor to clean the floor and gave Blaine a set of scrubs to wear instead of his filthy, ripped, bloody, vomit-coated clothes.

He was released to his mother, who was given specific instructions on how to care for a concussion and which ointments to apply to the long cut across Blaine's neck. His cheeks were bruised, and there were dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes.

Blaine was surprised to find most of the glee club standing in the lobby when he finally left the ER.

"Dude, are you okay?" Sam asked.

Blaine nodded hesitantly.

"You smell awful," Sugar added. This earned her a small shove from Artie. "Sorry, Blaine," she said reluctantly. "But you _do _reek."

"Blaine, we need you to come to the station to make your statement," an officer said, coming forward to address him and his mother. "You can go home as soon as we have it all."

Blaine's mother told the New Directions that they could wait at the Anderson house while she and Blaine went off with the police.

Blaine gave the police a detailed but detached account of his afternoon, beginning with his realization that Eli shouldn't have found out about his arrest and ending when the police poured into the basement. They asked questions about how Blaine even knew Eli in the first place and reprimanded him for meeting someone off the internet. Then they let him go.

When he returned home, his friends were watching a report on the news.

"...an interesting turn of events in the murder of three Westerville men two days ago," a woman was saying to the camera. "Just this afternoon, police went to the residence of Eli Charleston, 18, in attempts to find their disappeared primary suspect. What they found, however, was a complete shock. Charleston had taken the suspect, 17-year-old Blaine Anderson of Westerville, and was threatening him. Apparently, Charleston was aware of Anderson's history with the victims and confessed to murdering the three men as a sign of his affection for the other boy. When Anderson confronted Charleston about this, Charleston turned violent. Upon the police's arrival on the scene, Anderson was safely rescued with minimal damage, while Charleston turned his knife on himself. He is currently in critical condition and is being charged with three counts of first degree murder, kidnapping, and attempted murder. Back to you, Rod."

Blaine felt the words wash over him, but was too numb to really care about their implications. He allowed his friends to hug and coddle him for a short while before going upstairs to shower and go to bed.

* * *

After a few weeks, the frenzy died down. There were still a few people calling Blaine a murderer, but almost everybody believed the truth. Blaine had begun to see a therapist to deal with the trauma of the 'kidnapping' – although he didn't really classify his time with Eli as kidnapping, since he had willingly gone to the other boy's house.

When the trial came around, Blaine testified in the same numb and detached way that he had given his statement to the police. Eli was found guilty but pled insanity. Instead of being sent to jail for the rest of his life, he was sent to a psychiatric hospital. Blaine couldn't bring himself to really care.

In his everyday life, Blaine seemed like the same person he had always been. But there was something missing. Maybe it was because there was always a thin white scar on his neck to remind himself of those horrible few days, but Blaine felt a constant numbness within himself that he was always fighting.


End file.
